The Beginnings of a Bad Joke
by Feste the Fool
Summary: So King Arthur, Sir Gawain, and Squire Terence walk out of a river and into a bar and run into themselves. Sort of. Mostly. Giants and confusion and gates and accusations of sorcery will abound. Crossover, but don't let that scare you away. You'll love it, I promise.
1. In Which There Are Doubles

**I shouldn't, I really shouldn't, but I can't help it. For all of you who have been waiting for this, here you go, chapter one. Not exactly what I was planning to give you, but should be fun regardless.  
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**For all of you Merlin fans who wandered in off the street, read this story. Don't get scared by the description or the random doubles. Then go read The Squire's Tales by Gerald Morris. Trust me. If you like Merlin, you'll _love _The Squire's Tales. Terence is a _dream. _And don't worry about spoilers across the border. This takes place early Season 4, probably shortly after Uther's death, and the only spoilers for Squire's Tales will be stuff you can guess already. **

**Not marked as crossover because I want people to actually be able to find it and read it, thanks. Stuck under Merlin because it takes place in the Merlin universe.  
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**Disclaimer: I don't own a bit of it. If I did, I'd be too busy trying to find a way to bring Gawain, Merlin, Arthur, and Terence to life to write stuff like this.**

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"Oh, _wow. _Oh, oh, that's _bizarre!_ I mean, just…_wow!_"

"_Mer_lin, if you've _really _gotten _that_ stupid drunk by just _sitting_ next to Gwaine, you need to work on both your alcohol tolerance and your under-your-breath mumbling."

The comment went unheard. The warlock, who previously had been sitting facing the door of the tavern, turned back to his tablemates. Sir Gwaine sat on his left, ordering his fourth tankard of ale. King Arthur sat on his right, nursing his second glass of wine—couldn't have ruler of the land getting rip-roaring drunk and embarrassing himself and starting the day off with a hangover the next morning, after all. There was an untouched, watered-down tankard in front of his own chair, but Merlin seemed more interested in studying his master's face. Then he turned back to the door again.

"No, it's true! That's _insane!_ Who on earth…it's got to be a _relative…_"

Arthur leaned forward and slapped the back of his servant's head. "Either knock it off or tell us what you're mumbling about," he said. Catching the commotion out of the corner of his eye, Gwaine turned back to his friends with a curious expression.

Merlin jerked his head toward the door. "_Look, _Arthur. The man who just walked in here? If I didn't know what Uther looked like, I'd have _sworn _that man is your _father._"

That got both of their attention. Gwaine and Arthur stretched their backs and craned their necks around the table and Merlin to see what man he was talking about. Standing in the doorframe with a posture that said he was _very _out of his element was a man of average height and muscled build with shoulder-length gold hair and a greying beard. His face looked very much like Arthur's, indeed, but older, with wrinkles and an abundance of laugh lines. He carried himself a lot like Arthur did, as well, and even though he looked awkward walking into the tavern, he exuded the same nobility and self-confidence Arthur did.

"…Huh," Gwaine said, taking another swig from his ale. "Merlin's right, Queenie."

"Shut up. He looks nothing like me." But Arthur seemed to be trying to convince himself more than anything else. He pursed his lips, unnerved by the stranger.

The stranger turned and seemed to talk to someone behind him before taking another nervous step into the tavern and sweeping over the place with his eyes. His gaze locked on Arthur and both eyebrows shot up.

"Look, look, look," Merlin said, leaning toward the other two. "I think he thinks _you_ look like _him, _too." Arthur punched him in the shoulder, but it didn't wipe the grin from the servant's face.

Still staring at Arthur, the stranger stepped aside to allow someone else into the tavern. This was a young man, tall and lithe, with strong arms and a strange rigid-but-relaxed posture. He had short, light brown hair and moved with an almost unnatural grace that Merlin would have killed to have. The man who looked like Arthur tapped the younger man's wrist and pointed towards the table where the three friends sat. The younger man looked their way and paled considerably.

He then moved toward the stranger and another man stepped inside. Arthur sucked in a sharp breath and Merlin whistled in disbelief. Gwaine's eyes popped. This man _had Gwaine's face, _but it was topped with medium-length red hair and a thick, short red beard. He was much larger than Gwaine, built a little more like a bear than a man, but the similarities between this newcomer and the knight to Merlin's left were undeniable.

The tall, young man muttered something to the Gwaine-look-a-like. The redhead scanned the room, saw the three friends, and visibly started. He shook his head as if to clear it and looked at them again. Then he turned to the younger man. His sharp, scolding _"Terence!" _could be heard throughout the tavern.

Merlin grunted. "I wonder what that was about."


	2. In Which Several Knights Vanish

**Wow, what a response! I didn't know there were so many Merlin/Squire's Tales fans! I hope I can keep everyone happy with this story. I'll probably pop it into the "crossover" pool after another chapter or two, when we really start getting into the difference between worlds and such. **

**Once again, this takes place in early season four: Arthur is king, but Agravaine's still around. On the other side of the coin, we are dealing with characters from _just before _Camelot's Golden Age. The land is at peace and as far as Arthur knows, Lancelot is eating dirt at a monastery somewhere. Think in between Parsifal's Page and The Princess, the Crone, and the Dung Cart Knight.**

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"Wait a moment, where did everyone go?"

Terence, who had been staring at his horse's ears for the last hour in an effort to stay awake, glanced up at this strange statement. "What do you mean, Sire?" he asked.

Gawain, who _had_ been sleeping in the saddle, woke with a snort and blinked in the afternoon light. "What's goin' on?" he slurred, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand.

"Kai, Tor, Ector, Griflet, Bagdemagus, the guards…where could they have possibly gone?"

King Arthur, Sir Gawain, and his squire, Terence had been chatting amongst themselves at the back of a long line of knights headed back toward Camelot. Arthur had been leading the three and was preparing to head back to the front of the line when they came to a river. Arthur had begun to cross first, followed less than one horselength by Gawain and Terence, who was riding as close to side-by-side with his master as Griflet's disapproving glare would allow. _Now _the other two could see what the problem is. They had stepped out of the river. This side of the river _looked _the same as it had from the other bank, with one major difference. The other men were absolutely nowhere to be seen.

Arthur looked around. This was a plain with very little vegetation larger than a man's waist—nowhere to hide a small mounted regiment to be found. Only a quaint-looking little tavern ahead and the castle of Camelot in the far distance. Wide awake now, Gawain shot Terence a strange, questioning look. Terence lifted an eyebrow and gave a shrug in response. His eyes were dark with confusion. Gawain cleared his throat.

"They wouldn't have gone into the tavern, would they?" the knight asked, looking ahead while Terence tried his best to look innocent.

Arthur shook his head. "I thought they knew better than that, and besides, how could they have gotten there so quickly? They were _right _in front of us."

"On the other hand, it seems like the best place to look," Gawain said. He shot Terence another look. The squire's eyes widened and he shook his head emphatically. _No, _he seemed to say, _I really have no idea what's going on. Quit looking at me like that. _

"I suppose you're right," the king said with a sigh. "And quit talking to each other without words. I can practically _feel_ the conversation going on back there. It's distracting." He squeezed his heels and his horse began to canter.

The two best friends' eyes met again despite the warning, sparkling with mischief. They too urged their horses faster. The three dismounted in the innyard and gave their horses to the stablehand. Gawain held back from the others a moment—Guingalet couldn't resist the urge to snap at the poor stablehand's fingers as he reached for the bridle. "Sorry," Gawain said, handing the man an extra coin. "Guingalet's temperamental. Just stable him for now and I'll do the rest in a bit." The stablehand nodded and led the three mounts away.

Arthur and Terence walked up to the door, Gawain close behind. The king was hesitant. "What's the matter, Sire?" Gawain asked. "Haven't you ever been in a inn before?"

The king shrugged. "An inn, yes. And inn that seems to be primarily a tavern, no. I never had much of a chance to go cavorting as Kai's squire, and a king gets a bit too busy to do that kind of thing." Gawain chuckled at the thought. Arthur flashed his nephew a smile, then pushed the door open and stepped inside.

He surveyed the occupants of the inn/tavern. Oddly enough for the late afternoon, it was mostly empty. In fact, only two tables looked even moderately full. One had a handful of vagrant-y ruffians, and the other held three young men who looked as though they had just finished a hard journey. Arthur scanned the room again and his eyes locked on the table of three. "Uh…" he muttered to Terence behind him. "They aren't here, but you might want to see this for yourself."

"What is it?" The squire asked, stepping inside the tavern.

Arthur tapped his wrist to get his attention and pointed to the table in the corner. "There. No clue who that fellow in the middle is, but the other two…well, the blond looks a right sight like _me _in my younger days…except he's much cleaner than I, and much more confident-looking…I mean, I think I was still Kai's squire at his age…"

"What about the other one, the one with Sir Griflet's hair?" Terence asked with a smirk. Then he looked down at the beautifully-coiffed man's face and went white. "…Oh. Huh. This can't be good."

"What's not good?" asked Gawain from behind. "Gog's blood, let me _in _so I can see what the fuss is about…" He stepped into the tavern. "Where are you looking?"

"The table in the corner, Milord," Terence muttered.

The knight looked at the three gaping friends, shook his head, and looked again. When the vision didn't go away, he turned a glare onto his squire. "_Terence!" _

"Really, nephew. I hardly see how you could be blaming your squire for this…whatever it is…" Arthur stepped forward, then stopped. "Should we approach them, or…"

"Or turn around and run, perhaps?" Gawain said with a nervous smile. "Terence, run out and get the horses—"

Terence didn't move. It was too late. The three at the table were standing and heading towards _them. _


	3. In Which The Strangers Speak

"What do we do?" Merlin whispered, not taking his eyes off the trio by the door. "Do we go and talk to them or do we get out of here?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "They're just _men, _Merlin, why would you want to run from them?"

"Because something about this really doesn't seem right?"

Gwaine downed his tankard. "I wanna talk to _that _one," he said, jabbing a finger in the direction of the redheaded knight. "Ask him why he's wearin' my face."

_He's just drunk enough to do it, too,_ Arthur thought with a silent groan. Before he could formulate another option the knight stood headed for the door. "_No, _Gwaine, _stop," _he said, moving after him.

Merlin sighed and scrambled after his king. "I really don't think this is a good idea—"

"Shut up and help me catch him before he starts a drunken free-for-all!"

"Oh, come on, four tankards is him on a _sober _day; he's not that far gone!"

Arthur caught Gwaine's shoulder just as he hit speaking distance of the larger man. "Sorry," he said, pushing the drunkard back into Merlin (his elbow hit the servant's stomach, knocking the wind from him). "We were just—"

"Heading off, or wondering why we looked so similar?" asked the Arthur look-a-like. Thank _goodness _the voices sounded different. Merlin recovered from his little mishap, shrugged Gwaine off of him, and examined the strangers more closely. This broad, golden man didn't just look like Arthur. He looked like the Arthur Merlin saw in his _dreams, _the Arthur that could see both sides of an argument he'd only half-heard, the Arthur who could govern a land with all the fairness and regality the people deserved, the Arthur that could unite Albion together and free magic once more. Except this one was even _better, _eyes full of quiet humor and wisdom and love. He bit his lip to keep from staring.

"Yeah, and why've you got my face?" Gwaine said, glaring at his own look-a-like. Closer up, the similarities between this man and Gwaine were not so profound after all. The stranger's ruddy face had a wild, craggy complexion, and he seemed much calmer and more settled than the so-called peasant knight of Camelot. That's not to say he didn't look dangerous. He looked _very _dangerous. But he wore his danger in a far subtler and…_nicer _way. And there was a kind of sorrow…like he'd _seen _things, or _lost _things. Gwaine gulped, but didn't back down.

"I haven't the slightest idea why I have your face," the newcomer said, but his eyes slid over to the one he'd called _Terence. _There was something about this man—boy—young man—how old was he, anyway?—that reminded Arthur a little of Merlin. Unlike the other two and Merlin's companions, Terence and Merlin looked absolutely nothing alike, except perhaps, in height and build. But this man-boy with worn, ageless eyes, high-arched eyebrows, and a serene, unblinking, triangular face was obviously trained to be a fighter. But those _eyes…_Arthur couldn't look away.

"We really need to be going." Merlin's voice not only ended Arthur's staring match, but drew everyone's attention to him. He blushed, but was not about to even suggest that this whole situation didn't give him jitters. "Come on, Sire," he muttered under his breath, pushing Arthur (and by extension, Gwaine) out the door.

"Hold on," said the golden man amiable. "Did you just call _him _Sire?"

"…Yes?" The three friends exchanged glances. They weren't that far from the city proper. Wouldn't it have made sense for everyone around here to recognize their king on sight? "Why? What's so strange about that?"

Terence cleared his throat. "Perhaps we should take this conversation outside?" He looked pointedly at the golden man, then at Arthur, then around the tavern. The other man blinked once and nodded.


	4. In Which Many Introductions Are Made

There was so much tension between the six men, Merlin was afraid if he opened his mouth he'd _taste _it. Jumping like nervous rabbits, they all milled out into the inn yard and around behind the stables—the most private accommodations they could manage. Arthur paced and Gwaine stared at the strangers one by one. The golden man smiled and stood, casual and looking entirely at home now that they were out of the tavern. Merlin had a feeling he looked much that way everywhere he went. He himself was standing somewhere between Arthur's pacing trek and Gwaine, looking much more awkward than anyone else. The redhead leaned against the barn wall, looking quite comfortable despite the heavy plate armor he was wearing.

The one they called Terence stood behind the redhead, at his shoulder, his hands clasped meekly behind his back. He ducked his ageless eyes to the rest of them, looking every bit what Merlin was _supposed_ to be to Arthur. Arthur was a little jealous just looking at them—a good servant was hard to find. At the same time, he felt a little sorry for the pair. He couldn't imagine not being friends with his servants, after Merlin.

"Perhaps we should all start by introducing ourselves?" The golden man asked, a smile in his eyes as he watched the cagey Arthur pace.

"Right," Gwaine said, wiping ale from his chin. "Right. Sir Gwaine, knight of Camelot." The redhead, fell against the barn in surprise. "What's wrong with you?"

"N-nothing," the man said, turning his head to shoot another glance at Terence, who was currently refusing to look at him.

"Well, who are you, then?"

"Uh…Sir Gawain, knight of Camelot. Or Round Table, whichever you prefer."

Gwaine, Arthur, and Merlin all took a step back. Merlin's eyes were wide, Arthur looked sick, and Gwaine nearly bit his tongue. "Hold on now!" the drunkard yelped. "You can't steal my face _and _my name!"

"I think I'm older than you," Gawain said, still sliding his gaze back and forth from Terence to Gwaine. "So it's you stealing my name and face, if it's anything."

"Your names are different, Milord," Terence said. He hadn't reacted—outwardly, anyway—to this turn of events. In fact, he even looked like he expected it a bit. "It's hard to tell, but there's definitely a difference."

"And you can't be a knight of Camelot, _or _the round table," Arthur said, turning a little red. "There were only nine of us when we did the round table bit, and _you _definitely weren't there! I've never even _seen _a ginger in Camelot! And you talk funny. And I would know if you were one of my knights."

The golden man raised an eyebrow. "I'm guessing that would make you King Arthur Pendragon, wouldn't it?"

"Oh, have you recognized me now?"

"Sort of." He grinned, and had the decency to look sheepish. "I'm sort of King Arthur Pendragon."

Young Arthur froze and stared. "…Sort of?"

"Sort of, yes. Lord of Camelot, master of England, King of the Britons, et cetera, et cetera…"

"And where's England?" Gwaine asked, choosing to ignore the "Lord of Camelot" bit for now.

"Here's England, I thought," the old king said. "Now I'm not so sure. What do you call the island?"

"…Albion?" Merlin asked.

"Yes, that sounds right. Gawain, wasn't England called Albion before Angles came?"

"I don't know," Gawain said with a shrug. "History was never my subject. Terence?"

"I think so, Milord."

Merlin's eyes widened. "And you rule the _whole _land? All of it?"

The old king nodded. "For the most part."

You could have knocked Arthur (the younger one) over with a feather. Merlin wore an expression like _his _Arthur had just hugged him, called him friend for life, and gave him a promotion and a day off. Gwaine looked very much like he wanted to laugh. All three of them turned, silent and expectant, toward Terence, who shrugged and grinned. "Terence, Gawain's squire," he said by way of introduction. "Nothing special here."

Gawain snorted. Only Merlin noticed.

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**You wonderful people are quickly turning me into a review junkie...**


	5. In Which Merlin is Attacked

**If I have to write another stinkin' word about standardized testing in public schools, I might just die. Which is unfortunate, because I've still got approx. 2300 words worth of essay to write. But a little fortunate for you, because the more I have to write boring college essays the more I am inclined to procrastinate by writing and updating stories...quickly...resulting in a lot of mind-numbing typos I don't catch until after I reread...*twitch***

**Anyway. I'm running short of introductory stuff, so updates on this puppy may come slower now, while I get my plot in order. (PLOT? What plot? No one said there had to be plot! *weeps in a corner*) Ahem. Long story short, summer college is a drag, I still don't have internet at home, I'm rereading bits and pieces of the Squire's Tales books for the million and third time, and my brain is slowly melting into a puddle of old English and public school theory. **

**WHICH MEANS...I am taking requests as to what you, my darling readers, want to happen with Gawain, Arthur, and Terence in being in Albion. Because, apart from the unconnected scenes I have sketched out and mentioned in the summary, I'm too tired to think and don't want a hiatus and really, really love reader involvement anyway. So tell me, in a PM or a review (and all you people who haven't reviewed yet but have favorited and followed and other things that made me gush with joy need to get in on this too). Help me build my plot and take over the world!  
**

**Meanwhile, since crossings will be discussed here, this story is now officially a cross over.**

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"I…think I'm drunker than I thought I was," Gwaine said, scratching his head.

"I think," his counterpart said, "that we've made a crossing."

"A crossing, nephew?" Old Arthur asked.

Expressions of horror crossed over Young Arthur and Gwaine's faces as they turned to each other and mouthed the word _nephew._ Gawain ignored them. "Yes, a crossing from one world to another. Usually found by, in, or around water. Terence—" he looked at his squire again, who couldn't have looked more obviously innocent if he'd started whistling. "—and I have encountered them often. The Green Chapel, for example, was in another world. Not this one, though. I'd say this world crosses a few more lines than that." And once again he was looking at his squire. _What did you do? _

_I didn't do anything, I swear, _Terence said with an answering look. Then he blushed. _At least, not on purpose. _

"And now we're in a world with another Camelot?" Old Arthur asked with a raised eyebrow.

Young Arthur finally stopped pacing. "Hold on, hold on. All this talk about other worlds and crossings. Are we talking about _magic?" _

The three Englanders looked at him, faces blank. Gawain looked at his counterpart. "Is, ah…is he a bit thick?"

"_Excuse _me?"

Gwaine and Merlin started snickering.

"Sorry," Gawain said, eyes sparkling at the two laughing men. "Of _course _we're talking about magic. What else _could _it be?"

Arthur nodded, hand tightening on the hilt of his sword. "Then we'll have to find the sorcerer who brought you here and demand he send you home."

"Well, that's not going to work," Old Arthur said. "According to Gawain, ti was the _gate _that sent us here, not a sorcerer."

"And I do think they prefer the word _enchanter," _Gawain said, smirking at the idea of calling Morgan a sorcerer. "We'll be able to get home when the gate moves back and opens again, and not a moment sooner."

"So…we're stuck with you lot?" Gwaine asked, looking less than thrilled at the prospect.

"Brilliant," Arthur muttered under his breath.

Gawain looked thoughtful, glancing from Terence to Merlin. "Hold on, here, I'm sensing a pattern. Arthur and Arthur, Gwaine and Gawain…and you wouldn't happen to be Gwaine's page Torren or some such, would you?"

Young Arthur started laughing. "What, can you imagine those little arms learning how to do a knight's work? No, that's just my manservant, Merlin—"

"MERLIN!" exclaimed three voices, and before anyone knew what was happening, the three newcomers were surrounding Merlin, poking his arms and ribs, mussing his hair, peering into his eyes, and generally making the poor manservant nervous. Old Arthur looked as if he'd been struck by lightning.

"No way, on any world," Gawain said, his hand under Merlin's chin. "He's far too young."

"I think he's too short." Terence said. He was measuring Merlin's height with his—Merlin came up to his chin. "Then again, I have grown quite a bit, and this one looks like he's still growing. And he has the Look, or as close as we're probably going to get here, and the other two don't, which is curious. Sire? You knew him when he was younger."

"Not that young," Arthur said, voice tight. "Never that young. He was over twice my age. And from what I remember they look similar but not exactly alike, except maybe the eyes. Those are _my _Merlin's eyes. And my Merlin wasn't quite so thin and scrawny."

"And did he say _manservant? _Maybe things are more different than I thought…" Gawain said.

"EXCUSE me." Young Arthur pushed between them and extricated the befuddled and somewhat crowded Merlin from the tiny circle. "What's the matter with you people, anyway?"


	6. In Which a Silent Conversation Happens

**This has a teensy bit to do with the chapter "I Serve" in my story "Especially There." Why? Because we are not told about what happened at Merlin's departure, and I like mine. So there.**

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Gawain frowned at the rudeness, but Terence grinned, recognizing worry when he saw it. Arthur just stared. "I'm sorry," he told the younger king, reaching out to touch Merlin's shoulder, then thinking better of it and dropping his hand. "It's just I…I had a Merlin, too, once…"

Merlin cocked his head, aware of Arthur's arm tightening on his shoulders. "What happened to him?"

"He…he asked me to dismiss him, so I did and he left." Arthur hesitated, looking down at the grass beneath his feet. "I haven't seen him in over a decade. I…I miss him."

Merlin and Young Arthur both frowned at this, glancing at each other. "If you don't mind my asking, why did he ask to be dismissed?" Merlin said.

"Yes, and why on _earth _would you agree?" Arthur followed up. They both blushed but their curiosity was stronger than their desire to hide their friendship.

Old Arthur closed his eyes a moment. "Because I _had _to," he said, opening his eyes and staring at the grass. "I'd kept him longer than he had ever meant to stay. He was _hurting. _He _had _to go home, it was his time. I couldn't…" He sighed and shook his head. "He was hurting, and I couldn't refuse that. But I still miss him like the devil…"

Another small wave of horror flashed through Young Arthur's eyes, and Merlin looked nauseous for a moment.

"He's happy, Sire," Gawain said. "I'm sorry I never mentioned it before, but he's definitely happy. He married his Lady. Did I tell you they have a daughter? We haven't seen Merlin, but Terence told me he met their daughter. Apparently she's a lovely thing who never shuts up and doesn't mind her mother…"

Terence's eyes crinkled in silent laughter as Merlin's eyebrows shot all the way up into his hairline. Young Arthur and Gwaine were staring at the manservant with some apprehension. England's Arthur looked very happy at this notion. And Gawain—

Gawain had been wordlessly trying to get Terence to take control of the situation ever since they'd first arrived, and now he was _looking _at him again, doing that stupid deferring thing with his eyes. _Take us home, this place is insane. It's your area, Your Grace. I'm perfectly happy to let you play prince instead of squire. _

Terence frowned at his master and shook his head a fraction of an inch. _I'd rather not,_ _so quit that before I lose my temper. I don't know what's going on, and I'd rather stay in this position until I figure something else out. I don't know them, after all, even if they might be you and Arthur._ He took a tiny step backward and tilted his head toward the others.

Gawain smiled slightly and rubbed the back of his neck, sniffing. _Whatever you say, my lord. That doesn't make you any less of the leader around here. _

The squire's eyes flickered to Old Arthur. _Nice try, Sir Knight, but I'm still a squire while Arthur's around._ He tugged his earlobe and glanced at the castle in the distance. _And other world or not, this is still England, not Avalon. I've no authority here. _

_He'd follow you, just as you follow him._ That was sent with a twitch of his beard and a glance to Terence's feet. _And you're every bit the lord in England that you are in Avalon. _

Terence gave very soft snort and rolled his eyes. _Yes, I'm a lord while I'm cooking your food and polishing your armor and mending your clothes and—_

"You two are doing it again," Old Arthur said, his arms crossed over his chest. "What did I tell you about doing that?"

The two friends broke eye contact and turned to the rest of the company. All of them were staring, Arthur with an odd sense of familiarity, Old Arthur with a little annoyance, Merlin with respect, and Gwaine with a frown of confusion. Gawain sighed. "Sorry, Sire. Bad habit, I'm sure. We'll try to avoid in in future."

"Of course you will," the old king said, and somehow he managed to fit an eye roll into his voice without being sarcastic or actually rolling his eyes. Young Arthur burned with jealousy. He'd give his eyeteeth to be that smooth. And he was going to have to rethink the idea of Terence as the ideal, distant servant with no personal connection to his master if the two of them could have whole conversations like that.

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**Remember to drop me your thoughts on what you want to happen! Who do you want to see conversing with whom? I've already got a little scene where Gawain says Terence could probably match Merlin secret for secret, but how many of those secrets should be revealed? Who wants to see more knights coming into play? Should something attack Camelot? How about Morgana and Agravaine? How long before the gate reopens? Any other ideas I might have missed? **


	7. In Which Certain Questions Are Asked

"They can't stay here," Gwaine said, breaking Young Arthur out of his reverie. "They can't stay in Camelot, I mean. We can't have two of us running around."

"We only have to stay until the gate opens again," Old Arthur said. "I don't want to risk going anywhere else."

Young Arthur shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck. "I've no problems with you staying, but Gwaine's right. We really can't have the two of you, at least, running around confusing everyone. And it would be a nightmare, trying to explain all this to the Council, least of all why I'm letting you stay…"

"Why are you letting them stay, if they came here using magic?" Merlin asked, looking at Arthur with a critical eye. Could this be a turning point of some kind? "I mean, couldn't this be kind of bad? The Dorocha got in through a door to another world."

Gawain glanced at Terence, who shrugged. He'd never heard of a Dorocha before.

"The Dorocha were _sent _through the door to another world, Merlin. Obviously these three didn't _mean _to come here. It's not like any of them _have _magic." Arthur suddenly looked up at the three Englanders, all of whom looked very confused at the thought of Merlin putting down magic. "You…don't have magic, do you?"

"No," Old Arthur said slowly, raising an eyebrow.

"No," said Gawain, his eyes flicking to Terence again.

"No," said Terence. He, at least, sounded a little more confident in his answer than the other two.

"May I ask why that's even an issue?" the older king said, his gaze fixing on Merlin, who flushed.

"The use of magic is strictly forbidden in Camelot, punishable by death," Arthur explained, not noticing Old Arthur's stare grow in intensity, or Gawain's subtle shifting of weight that put him between Terence and the others.

Merlin's blush darkened under Old Arthur's stare. _They know_, he thought, the idea making him a little sick. _Their Merlin probably had it. Probably used it all the time. That Arthur spoke like it wasn't even illegal in England. _He bit his lip and willed them not to say anything.

"Merlin!" Young Arthur said, whirling around. "Can we take them to Gaius and have them lay low there until the gate opens? Squire Terence doesn't look like anyone we know, so he should be able to go back and forth to check…why is your face so red?"

"Holding my breath, sire," Merlin said with a small gasp, to make the lie easier to swallow. "Gaius will find the whole thing thrilling, I'm sure. Want me to run ahead and warn him?"

Arthur shook his head. "No, you may as well stay with us." He turned back to the Englanders. "We're going to take you to Gaius. Have you got a Gaius? He's our Court Physician," he explained at the three heads shaking practically in unison. "You'll have to stay with him until the gate opens. Then we'll get you back to your…England, where you belong. All right?"

"Sounds excellent," Sir Gawain said. "Just give us a moment to get our horses and we'll be on our way."

**Sorry for the delay!**


	8. In Which Everyone Goes To Camelot

A few minutes later and the six were on horseback, heading to Camelot. Gwaine had done some fast and shrewd card playing while the horses were fetched—the Englishmen now wore thick cloaks with large hoods to cover their faces, and Terence's legs, which they thought was strange.

"I have no _idea _what it is you're wearing," Gwaine had told him, glancing at the leggings as he gave them the cloaks, "but you'll stick out like a sore thumb on the streets of Camelot. Are you two wearing those…things under your armor, too?"

Gawain and Arthur had frowned as they tossed the cloaks over their shoulders. "Yes. But how much clothing _can _you wear under armor, really?" Gawain asked, then groaned. "Our packs were with our helmets, on the horse behind Tor."

"Then the first thing we'll need to do is get you all some trousers. And a decent shirt. And some armor that doesn't make you look like a shiny beetle."

"No offense meant," the older king said, eyeing the two knights, "but I think I'd feel safer in my armor than in yours. Does that defend you at all?"

"Of course it does," Young Arthur said. "Although yours does look much more protective. I'll have to talk to Elyan and see what he thinks."

Now, approaching the city, Old Arthur shivered. He was about to see a mirror image of his beloved Camelot—albeit a strange one, where Merlin had not enchanted the stones and there may or may not be a Round Table, seeing as his younger doppelganger had referred to a "round table bit" with only nine people. The idea was thrilling.

"Don't get too excited, sire," Gawain muttered, seeing his king straighten in the saddle. "Apparently we'll only be seeing as far as the physician's chambers."

It was true, but it didn't stop any of them from staring as they rode to the royal stables. It looked so _similar. _It was smaller, the layout was different, landmarks were missing, there was no seneschal to stop them at the gate, there were no familiar faces, and all three of them felt they were certain they would get lost in minutes, but at the same time, it felt like _home. _The city sounded the same, moved in the same directions, smelled the same, _breathed _the same. Arthur was sure, if he held very, very still, he would feel the same city heartbeat as well.

"Oh, that's just eerie, that is," Gawain said, looking around.

Arthur turned in the saddle. "Why, does it look the same as yours?"

"No, but it _feels _the same."

"I feel it, too," Arthur said with a nod.

Terence grunted. "No squire's court," he said. "And the castle looks different."

"But it _feels _the same, thimblewit."

Merlin's eyes lit up and made a mental note to spend a lot of time around this Sir Gawain. The squire just shrugged. "I don't feel anything."

Gawain rolled his eyes. "Grew up in a hut in a forest," he explained to their three hosts. "All cities feel the same to him."

"Really? How did that work?" Gwaine asked.

"I didn't know my parents. I was raised by a hermit, until Gawain took me as his squire."

Arthur glanced back. "You didn't know _either_ of your parents?"

"No," Terence said, the hood of his cloak shaking—his head was invisible.

Arthur frowned, but said no more. They stopped at the royal stables and experienced a delay on their trip to Gaius' chambers. Apparently _this _Camelot's stables were _nothing _like England's Camelot's stables, if you were a stubborn aughisky with a bad temper. Not that Gawain was going to bring up the _aughisky _bit, if he could help it. Guingalet threw a fit when they drew near, almost throwing Gawain and trampling the old King Arthur's mount. Gawain dismounted as soon as he could and caught the horse's reins, pulling his head close to Guingalet's and crooning pleasantries in another language.

"What language is that?" Young Arthur asked as Gawain moved around his horse in almost a dance, trying to calm him down.

"Gaelic," the squire answered, preparing to dismount. "Doesn't Gwaine speak Gaelic?" Gwaine shook his head. "Milord was born and raised in Orkney, part of Scotland. He speaks French and Gaelic as well as English."

"French?" Gwaine asked.

"Language of Gaul?" Old Arthur asked in return, trying to remember his history lessons.

"Ah."

Guingalet was under control now, although still did not look happy about his sleeping arrangements. They had to wait for Gawain to rub him down personally ("Isn't that the squire's job?" Young Arthur asked, to which the knight just shrugged) before they could continue. At last they raised the hoods that had flapped down in the commotion and continued the trek to the physician's chambers.


	9. In Which Gaius Gets Excited

"All right, wait a moment," Merlin said as they approached Gaius' door.

Arthur groaned. "Oh, just hurry _up, _Merlin. The less time we spend hanging out in a corridor, the less likely these two are of being spotted."

"I don't want to give Gaius a heart attack!" the warlock snapped, disappearing into the room.

Gwaine was staring down both lengths of the corridor, making sure no one was coming. "This has got to be one of the strangest days of my life," he muttered. Young Arthur grunted in agreement, but the Englishmen were silent. "Well?" Gwaine asked. "How about you lot?"

Old Arthur, Gawain, and Terence exchanged looks. "…Probably, although the day I was crowned comes close," Arthur said slowly.

Gawain nodded. "This is a…different experience to be sure, but I've had stranger things happen to me."

"Stranger than walking into another world and running into yourself?" Gwaine asked with a raised eyebrow. "Mate, I'd hate to imagine any of your off days. What about you, squire? This bizarre enough for you?"

Terence's lips twitched. "Keep in mind that I ride with him." He jerked his head at Gawain.

Before anyone could answer that, the door opened again and Merlin ushered them into the room. The smell seemed to indicate that Gaius had been preparing some kind of potion when Merlin had walked in and the project was now being abandoned at the thought of much more entertaining prospects. "Gaius," Young Arthur said, striding in before anyone else could. "Merlin explained?"

"He told me there was a matter of some delicacy which required my attention regarding visitors who arrived with magic," Gaius said, looking at the three hooded figures in apprehension.

Arthur nodded. "Not exactly, but close enough. These gentlemen have come into Camelot from a _different _Camelot," he said, gesturing toward the cloaked men. "They are King Arthur, Sir Gawain, and Squire Terence, and they have apparently crossed over from another world."

Gaius shook his head and laughed lightly. "I'm sorry, sire, but the idea seems a bit ridiculous."

The Englishmen glanced at each other and removed their hoods. Gaius went very pale on seeing Arthur and Gawain, and he sat down heavily in the nearest stool available. "Oh my," he said as Merlin clung to his arm.

"We already know what's wrong, sir, and just have to wait until the gate reopens so we can go back," Gawain said.

"I know I can trust you with this, Gaius," Young Arthur said. "All you have to do is keep them here until their gate reopens and they can return to their own Camelot. The squire should be able to move through Camelot without causing a scandal. He'll be checking the gate daily. Whatever any of you need, you shall have."

"It is my pleasure, sire," Gaius said, looking at the three Englishmen with a mixture of delight and fear. "In fact, if you don't mind, I should be grateful for the opportunity to study such a phenomenon."

"…Why would you…never mind. Whatever you want." Arthur frowned and carded a hand through his hair. "I've got to talk to Agravaine about this…"

"Agravaine?" Gawain asked sharply, turning to stare at Young Arthur.

The young king frowned and nodded slowly. "Yes, my uncle Agravaine who has been counseling me for the last year. Why, what's your Agravaine?"

"My youngest brother."

"You've got brothers?" Gwaine said, eyes lighting up.

"Yes, three of them, but they're all idiots except Gaheris, and even _he _has his moments."

"Not quite as often as you do, Milord," Terence muttered. He blinked innocently, but his eyes were shining with mischief.

"Well, no one asked you," the knight answered, in a tone similar to what Arthur used to tell Merlin to shut up, but with a great deal more fondness.

"Oh my," Gaius repeated, paling again.

Young Arthur rolled his eyes. "Yes, you can see the problems we begin to face." He looked across the company and raised his head. "You…Arthur…Alright, that's strange to say…put your hood back up. You're coming to see Agravaine with me. He'd never believe this if he didn't see it himself."

Gawain and Terence tensed, looking back to their king, who merely raised an eyebrow at their expense. "Don't raise those hackles," he said. "I can handle myself. Behave yourselves, will you?"

"Always, sire," Gawain said with a deep bow.

Young Arthur glared at Gwaine. "_He's _polite."

"Yes, and bully for him," the other knight sneered. "Go run off to Uncle Agravaine now and tell him about the big scary monsters."

Young Arthur rolled his eyes and led his counterpart out the door again. The instant the door shut behind him, Gwaine and Merlin sprang at the Englishmen, shooting questions at them so quickly no one could understand a single word.


	10. In Which Gawain Says Too Much

"Hold up, boys," Gaius cried, casting a scolding look on Gwaine and Merlin. "Can we not allow our guests some time to breathe before they are bombarded?"

Gwaine didn't look like that was going to bother him at all and would have continued his babbling had not a sheepish Merlin elbowed him on the arm. "Sorry, Gaius," he said. "Uh…this is Gaius, our court physician."

"Arthur told us as much, on the road," Sir Gawain said with a pleasant smile. "I'm happy to meet you, Gaius, although I must admit I'd almost prefer it if there were no occasion for such a meeting."

"He _is _polite," Gaius said, impressed, looking at Gwaine. The knight had been glaring at his counterpart for all he was worth. Now he turned that glare onto Gaius, very much unhappy with the idea that, so far, his friends seemed to be liking the redheaded man better than him. "Now, _I _have a few questions before I release them to the likes of you two. Sir Gawain, how exactly did you get here?"

Gawain looked at his squire—he seemed to do that a _lot, _Merlin noticed. "…Well," he said, his gaze bouncing forth between Gaius and Merlin and Terence. "There are these…gates, you see, in our world…and they open up to other worlds. Up until about an hour ago, I thought they only opened onto one other world, but clearly I was mistaken on that regard, because one seems to have swallowed us up and dropped us off here."

"You've been to another world before?" Gaius asked, eyebrows raised with curiosity.

Another look at the squire. "Yes, and more than once. But this…this is new."

"Fascinating. And—"

"You've got a _servant,_" Gwaine barked before Gaius could finish. He looked at Terence, who appeared to be alarmed and being brought into the conversation.

Gawain smiled, just enough to be infuriating. "…Yes, I have."

Merlin elbowed Gwaine again. "Gwaine, shut up," he hissed. "You'll have to excuse him. He's got authority issues. Hates all nobility except Arthur. Doesn't like the idea of having servants."

"It's not so bad between you and Arthur," Gwaine said. "But _he _called you '_milord._' Why do you make him do that?"

Gawain's shoulders shook in silent laughter. "I don't. He just does. I really don't much care for it, but he won't stop." He looked behind him. "Gwaine here doesn't like the title, lad. Care to drop it for me?"

Terence smirked. "Of course milord. Anything you say, milord."

"See?" the ginger said, turning back. "Cheeky thing, isn't he?"

Gwaine growled, but Merlin elbowed him again and asked his own question. "Never mind that. What was that you said about your Merlin's lady?"

"Merlin," Gaius scolded. "I wasn't finished—wait, Merlin's _lady_?"

Gawain cleared his throat and rehashed what they had said on the road, not really admitting anything new. Then he smiled, a certain kind of wickedness in his eyes. "Before you go on, can I ask a few questions of my own?" The Albion men looked at each other and shrugged. "Good. Because I find it _interesting _that of all the men in our troop, only Arthur, Terence and I crossed into Albion, and the first people we met were you three. Our doubles."

"Well, yours and Arthur's doubles," Gaius corrected.

The Englishman shook his head. "Oh, that's what I thought at first, too, but the more I see, the more I think _your _Merlin and _my _Terence are counterparts the same way as Gwaine and I."

Merlin and Terence looked at each other and something strange happened to Merlin. It was the first time Terence had turned to face him properly, the first time they'd looked at each other straight on rather than some kind of partial view, the first time he'd fully met the squire's eyes. The warlock's hair stood on end. A feeling erupted in the back of his head, a little like being hit with a rock or running into a wall, like everything had just ground to a complete stop. Something bouncing around in Merlin's mind was screaming at him, telling him he should be bowing.

The whole exchange took perhaps a second and Terence didn't seem to be bothered at all. Merlin frowned, uncomfortable, and turned back to Gawain.

"That gives me ideas," the knight continued. "Because if _you_," he pointed at Gwaine, "are _me, _and _you_ are Terence, then you are _both _keeping secrets from your king."

They all went pale, but the ginger knight only grinned wider. "Gwaine's is small and Merlin's are many and fairly large. Only Merlin knows Gwaine's secret, and only Gwaine and Gaius know Merlin's secrets. One of the secrets, of course, is the magic, but I—"

Gwaine's head whipped toward Merlin's so fast his neck cracked. "You have _MAGIC?!_"

"Ah…" Gawain's eyes darkened and he glanced at Terence, who wouldn't look at him. "…Oops?"


	11. In Which The Arthurs Converse

Young Arthur waited until he was a hallway away from Gaius' chambers before catching his English counterpart's arm and pulling him into a small alcove.

"What's the matter?" Old Arthur asked. "I thought we were going to see your uncle."

"We are," the younger Arthur admitted slowly. "But I took _you _along because I wanted to talk to you."

"About…"

Young Arthur licked his lips and folded his hands together. In a nervous voice barely more than a whisper, he said, "…When you said that your Merlin was hurting, what exactly did you mean?"

Old Arthur was silent a few seconds. "…You mean how can you stop it before it starts?" he said. His eyes, still hidden by the hood, crinkled in the corners. "I've asked myself that question many times over the years. It's not the only one I've asked, heavens knows. How could I have stopped Merlin from hurting? How can I remove the sadness from Gawain's eyes? How can I get rid of Griflet without insulting anyone important? How can I get Lancelot to come back without shaming us both?" The great king sighed, not noticing the sharp interest forming on his complement's face. "I don't think you can. You'll just have to hope that your Merlin is able to stay with you forever."

"That's not good enough," Arthur argued, shaking his head. "What if it does happen? I need to know how to fix it. How to make it better. Gaius could help, couldn't he? You don't have a Gaius—"

"Arthur," Old Arthur said, holding up a hand. "I'm sorry. If it happens, you won't know. He won't tell you when it starts, although after he's gone you'll be able to pinpoint the moment on your own. Hindsight sees all, and all. And then you'll remember many times he winced or went pale that you didn't notice at the time." He sighed deeply. "Pain lines will appear on his face, and you won't see them there until you bid him goodbye and they suddenly disappear. His hair will turn grey—white, in my case—but you won't see the streaks until he turns to leave you."

"I can't believe that. Merlin is…he's my best friend."

"Yes, and mine was a father to me." The older Arthur started into the darkness of the forest. His eyes were misting, but the younger Arthur didn't say a word. "If he had told me…I don't know. I don't know what I would have done—what I could have done. I wish he had told me. He said he didn't want to worry me, not so early in my reign. He didn't want to leave me until he was sure I was well-protected." His gaze drifted down the hallway toward the room they'd left.

"And you're protected now?"

"Most thoroughly. Is there anything else you wanted to know right this minute?"

"Yes." Young Arthur's voice dropped even lower, and he took a half step closer. "I need to know that you trust your men. I need to know if _I _can trust them. You three are a _highly _sensitive matter, and I'm breaking _decades _of tradition and law _and _going against my better judgment allowing you to stay here. I need to be sure I'm doing the right thing, trusting them."

Old Arthur crossed his arms. "But you'll trust me sight unseen?"

"Who can I trust, if I can't trust myself?" He grinned. "Besides that, Merlin and Gwaine like you. I can tell. Those two are sometimes as good as _dogs _as a judge of character. But Gwaine doesn't trust your Gawain and the squire's just a servant, albeit a _weird _one. So. Do you trust them?"

Arthur nodded immediately. "Gawain has my absolute trust, and love. He has done more for me than I doubt you will ever know, or that your Gwaine will ever do for you."

Young Arthur drew a short breath and acknowledged the words with a nod. "And the squire?"

Old Arthur was silent for a moment, thinking. Then his smile widened. "…I get these absolutely _monstrous_ nightmares sometimes. You know the ones? Well, maybe you don't. They're the kind of dreams that make you wake up, _throw _up and swear you'll never close your eyes again. _The squire _is in every single one of them."

Young Arthur raised an eyebrow. "So you don't trust him? But you allow him to stay in Camelot and do not suspect him of any wrongdoing?"

"You misunderstand me. I trust Terence perhaps _more _than I do Gawain. Because the nightmares only end when he appears. Terence is in every one because he's the one chasing the bogey man away.*" And he stepped out of the alcove without another word. "To Agravaine?"

"…Right," Arthur said, shaking his head. "But we're not finished here." He led the way to his uncle's chambers.

* * *

***Fun assumptions! The nightmares idea is based off the titular oneshot of my story Especially There, and the following ST quotes…**

** …Gawain looked about his bed, bemused.  
"I've either had a very strange dream," he said, "or you've got some explaining to do, lad."  
Terence's eyes twinkled. "Have you been dreaming of the bogey man, then? Shall I protect you?"  
"Faith, lad, I think you could…" –The Squire's Tale, page 114**

**And, of **_**course, **_

** Gawain knelt and said, "Our service is always yours, sire."  
"Even in my dreams?" Arthur asked.  
"Especially there, oh king," Terence murmured, bowing. –The Squire's Tale, page 116**

…**I read these books way, **_**way **_**too much. **

**Also, just wanted to let you know. College started, which means I get better, more reliable internet access for longer…and less of a chance to use it. However, I work better with distractions, as insane as that sounds, so while this could mean a slack in updates until I get in the swing of things, or it could mean business as usual. Just wanted to warn you. If I vanish, it's because I have school. **


	12. In Which Merlin Panics

Terence was only half-paying attention as Gawain explained Nimue to the old physician. Instead he looked around the chambers, completely lost in thought. He was on unstable ground right now. He had always suspected there were worlds beyond Avalon. He just didn't think he'd ever go to one himself—_especially _not with the king. The thought of England without Arthur made him even more nervous than being in this strange place where he was potentially breaking the law just by existing, and he hoped time was cooperating at home.

Speaking of other worlds, _what _another world! He had never _dreamed _there could be more than one Camelot, and this place with its too-young citizens was both fascinating and almost exhausting. He turned to meet Merlin's gaze properly for the first time. A troubled look flicked into the young warlock's eyes, but did not stay long. He frowned and looked at the physician who, while looking nothing like the Merlin he remembered from England, fit the bill for England's Merlin better than Albion's Merlin did.

"…One of the secrets, of course, is the magic, but I—" he heard Gawain start to say.

"You have _MAGIC?_" the other knight said, his head flipping toward Merlin, who looked as if he was going to be sick.

Terence sighed deeply and stared at the wall, resisting the urge to slap his master. "Milord," he said slowly. "What have I told you about being more of an _idiot _than you _actually are?_"

"Well, how was _I _supposed to know things were different?" the ginger knight said irritably, glaring at Terence, then cursed as he looked at Merlin. "Oh, blast—lad—"

Merlin was swaying on his feet, white as a corpse. Terence jumped forward at Gawain's command, pulling his counterpart into the nearest chair and pushing the warlock's head between his knees as his breathing grew more and more erratic. He left his hand on the back of Merlin's neck and glared back at Gawain. "_Now _see what you did?"

Gwaine's shock left when he saw Merlin in peril, and he kneeled down in front of the two servants, his hands on Merlin's shoulders. "Merlin, _Merlin, _mate, you need to _breathe. _Calm _down. _I'm not going to turn you in, Merlin. You're safe_. You're safe." _

Merlin glanced up, still hyperventiliating. Terence hesitated, then removed his hand and stepped away from the men of Albion. Gwaine remained kneeling, trying to get his friend to breathe normally, and Gaius was pushing smelling salt under Merlin's nose. While they did that, Terence moved to stand next to a _very _uncomfortable Knight of the Round Table and gave him a scolding look.

"Milord," the squire said, as if speaking to a slow child. "How many people _who live in Camelot _know about me? _Two. _Which one is male? _You. _Which one do I share living quarters with? _You. _Which one am I with more often than anyone else when something spectacular happens? _You." _He jerked his thumb towards Gaius. "It's the _physician, _who knows. _Just the physician._"

"I got distracted by the names. Not all of us have heads for this kind of thing," the knight answered, still shuffling and blushing.

"I _don't _have a head for this kind of thing. What I _do _have is an _ounce _of common sense and the ability to think before I speak."

"If you two don't _mind,_" Gaius snapped, still trying to get his ward under control.

Gawain grumbled some more, and the squire couldn't help but smile. Merlin was beginning to come around now—apparently some of Gwaine's words had _finally _sunk in. "You're…not…" the boy began, still a little out of breath.

Gwaine shook his head. "I sort of almost suspected, but I didn't think that even _you _would be _that _stupid. Guess I was wrong."

Merlin gave a breathy chuckle and the color rushed back into his face. "I'm not evil, I promise."

Gawain roared with laughter, and Terence snorted as well. The thought of their Merlin being _evil _was hilarious…and the thought of Terence himself siding with Morgause was just absurd, not in the least because Terence thought (hopedwished_prayed) _she was dead.

The Albion men glared at them, a little less than impressed about their moment of friendship being disturbed. Gaius had an eyebrow raised that reminded Terence inexplicably of Trevisant. Made sense, really, what with him being Merlin's guardian and Merlin being Terence…the squire still wasn't sure he liked the idea of…well, _Merlin _in any form, being _himself _as well. And being younger, too! Although, admittedly, with Terence it was hard to tell...

"I'm—sorry," Gawain said with a little gasp. "…Our Merlin raised Arthur. If Merlin were evil, Arthur would be, too, and you could see for yourself Arthur is _not evil._" He chuckled again. "And if _you're _my Terence…" he turned to his squire. "Sorry, lad, but I can't see you as an Unseelie spy."

Terence scoffed. "As if they'd have me."

Gaius put away the bottle of smelling salts. Merlin turned back to Gwaine, nervous again. "You're sure you're okay with it?" he asked.

Gwaine put his hand on Merlin's shoulder. "_Merlin. _I've seen magic in my time, and I know it can't all be bad. _Especially _if you've got it."

Terence smiled at the same time Merlin did. Perhaps this "Terence and Gawain" were not the same as him and his master, but the potential for brotherhood was still there, and it was nice to see.

Suddenly, Merlin frowned. "Hold on," he said. "You two were right, completely right. Gwaine _is _keeping a secret from Arthur and I _am _keeping _lots _of them—not just the magic, Gwaine—"

"I'd better be hearing about the rest of them soon," the drunk knight growled.

"Yes, fine…but if I'm Terence, doesn't that mean _he's _got magic, too?"

Terence frowned and he and Gawain looked at each other. "Lad?" his master asked. _Is there anything you wanted to tell me?_ His eyes asked what he couldn't himself.

_Don't be stupid,_ he answered with an eyeroll. "I don't have magic, but I am often associated with it," Terence said.

Gawain nodded and clapped a hand on Terence's shoulder. "My Terence could probably match your Merlin, secret for secret."

Merlin raised an eyebrow and laughed. "Oh, I don't know about that. I've got a _lot _of secrets…"

Terence smiled. "Oh, trust me, Merlin. So do I."

* * *

**Not crazy about this one, but here you go! **

**Also, I'm getting internet at home, which means no more awkward waiting to get something to you, and possibly some random, middle-of-the-night updates. As if I'm not inconsistent enough, right? Anyway, hooray!**


	13. In Which Agravaine Is Well Informed

Arthur entered Agravaine's bedroom with a quiet knock and considerable apprehension. "Ah, Arthur," the lord said with a broad smile as he stepped in. "…And…your friend," he added, smile drooping a bit as he saw the hooded Englishman skulk in afterward. It was amazing how much this one idea made both kings feel like boys late for lessons. "What brings you here?"

Young Arthur grimaced a little. "It's a bit awkward, actually…There's a matter of some delicacy that's come to my attention, Uncle," he began shooting his counterpart a look. "It's not serious…at the moment, and with a little…discretion, it will stay that way."

Agravaine sat down in the chair at those words, a curious combination of interest and dread flickering through his face. "I'm listening."

"…It involves…" the younger king dropped his voice in a way that made the older one bite back a laugh. "_Magic." _

The man's eyebrows rose. "Yes?"

Young Arthur shut his eyes and pursed his lips before waving a hand toward the hooded figure. "…Uncle…this is King Arthur Pendragon. Arthur, this is my Uncle Agravaine."

The uncle in question knocked over his wineglass jumping to his feet, his eyebrows disappearing into his hair and his face paling as Old Arthur removed his hood. "But—but—that's—"

"Yes, yes, he looks just like me," Young Arthur said, rolling his eyes as Old Arthur chuckled. "That's because he _is _me, a bit."

"Do you mind if I speak?" Old Arthur grumbled, and Agravaine relaxed when he realized they didn't sound the same.

The younger king inclined his head at his elder. "Oh, please. You can explain all this so much better than I can, after all."

A wry smile graced the elder's face, making his eyes crinkle, and he suddenly looked much younger than he originally appeared. "To my understanding, there has been a bit of mix up somewhere along the way, but we'll be out of your hair before you know it."

Agravaine's already bugging eyes popped out a bit further. "We?" he wheezed.

"Calm down, Uncle," Young Arthur said, walking over and dropping a hand onto his shoulder. "He's not going to cause trouble, he promised."

"There are three of us," the older one added. "Myself, naturally, my nephew Sir Gawain—" Agravaine wheezed again, but that made sense, because he'd never liked Gwaine. "—and Gawain's squire, Terence were separated from the rest of our troop and sent here from…well, from a different Camelot, through a crossing. When the gate opens again, we'll be on our way."

"…I see," said the uncle, standing up straighter and speaking more clearly now that he was getting over the shock of seeing two Arthurs. "And when will the…the gate open again?"

The Arthurs glanced at each other, the younger one squeezing Agravaine's shoulder before releasing it and moving toward the other. "We don't know," the older said. "But apparently Squire Terence doesn't look like anyone from your Camelot, and he'll be checking every day."

"They'll be staying in Gaius' chambers and well out of the way," the younger picked up. "Everything will be fine, we can handle this. And none of them have magic. We asked before they knew it was illegal. No fear there."

"That was a bit underhanded of you," the older said with a frown. "But clever, very clever. Good job."

"…Thanks, I think."

Agravaine shook his head. "…Is there something I can do to help?"

Young Arthur tilted his head. "There isn't really anything anyone can do to help. You're my closest advisor. I wanted to be sure you knew."

They left not long after that, heading back to the physician's chambers. Alone in his rooms, Agravaine stared at the floor for a long while before grabbing a dark cloak and heading for the stables.

* * *

**I apologize for the hideous quality of this chapter, but I don't like writing Agravaine and this was overdue and NaNoWriMo has eaten my brain. **


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